Shiver
by SandraDeee
Summary: They were all pushing her toward Nathan and she did her best to be bartender-with-a-heart-of black Lexie, the anti-Audrey, to avoid what they wanted. But for tonight, she was tired and spent and hungry for the way things used to be with him, even if she could only snatch a few minutes of feeling alive before she had to revert to a woman Nathan could never love.


**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note:** So I'm cleaning out some old files. I found this ficlet that I wrote during season 4 around the time that Audrey returned to Haven but had assumed the Lexie identity to avoid killing Nathan. Keep in mind that at that point, William's true nature was not known to the characters.

I have to be honest; season 4 left a really bad taste in my mouth. And this is coming from someone who really, really, _really_ loved this show. I'm hoping I can recapture the love I had for the show and finish my other _Haven_ fics, particularly _Phoenix Rising_, but I've just got the blues when it comes to this series.

* * *

**Shiver**

She found Nathan near the wharf, the scene of the crime that defined two lifetimes for her, and watched as he knelt next to the wood posts where James's limp body once rested. James had been a mystery back then, the talk of the town, 'the Colorado Kid' they'd called him in the _Herald_. But he was no mystery to her. She loved him, and he had been born of love.

Where was he now?

As Lexie, she had no idea she had a son.

As Lexie, she had no reason to mourn for him, to mourn for what could have been.

But as Audrey, she found it difficult to breathe in this place.

When the barn began to collapse, did James have his own version of William to help him escape? Or did James die with the barn?

She turned to leave. It felt intrusive to watch Nathan mourn their son.

"Need something?"

She froze in place, partly from her surprise that he'd realized she had been watching, and partly from the resignation she heard in his tone.

She had brought this suffering on him.

She still made him suffer.

Without a word, she walked to where he knelt and extended her hand, waiting to see if he would take it. He did.

* * *

It began as a shiver.

Her hands were cold against his skin. Shock registered before the actual temperature. Astonishment before pleasure. He had become so used to nothingness—too used to nothingness—that the gentle touch was enough to raise the hair on his neck, turn his pores into goosebumps, and draw a sigh from him.

Her skin against his. Slender fingers curled around his wrist; her thumb stroked the back of his hand.

It occurred to him that he had felt more in that one moment than he'd felt in the better part of a year. It seemed a lifetime ago. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to feel alive.

He stood, trying to draw closer to her.

"_You know I'm not her." _

Same cornflower blue eyes. Same tiny freckle on her neck. Same drive to help the Troubled.

But this wasn't Audrey.

Not anymore.

"I'm sorry," she murmured without bravado, and she was sorry. Sorry that Nathan thought she was gone and that he blamed himself; sorry that he thought he was the cause of every horrible thing that happened for the last seven months; sorry that her kindness was a form of cruelty. Being around him, watching him hurt, tore at her. But being the one to inflict the misery? Unforgivable. How else was she to keep him alive? This, at least, bought them time, something they'd had too little to enjoy together.

But they were all pushing her toward Nathan—Vince, Dave, hell, even Jordan—and she did her best to be bartender-with-a-heart-of black Lexie, the anti-Audrey, to avoid what they wanted. But for tonight, she was tired and spent and hungry for the way things used to be with him, even if she could only snatch a few minutes of feeling alive before she had to revert to a woman Nathan could never love.

So long as he didn't know she loved _him_.

Touching him was too dangerous, too cruel. And so she pulled away. "I'm sorry," she repeated softly.

Disappointment replaced the hope that had coursed through him that somehow, despite every piece of evidence to the contrary, she was who she had once been.

"Me too."

Understatement. If he were to let her know what he really thought, would she run away? As it was, she was already halfway running. It was all over but the leaving.

Her eyes were averted. He silently pleaded for her to look at him, to see _him_, to remember.

"I shouldn't be here."

"Why _are_ you here?"

But her words weren't forming. Finally she smirked and said, "Took a wrong turn out of a weird supernatural barn." But her lips quivered and he could see her breath in the night air.

He shrugged off his jacket and draped it around her slender shoulders, pulling it more tightly around her. His hands lingered on the fabric, but he was careful not to touch her.

"Why are you here?" he repeated.

"I don't know," she finally said before shuffling her feet and adding with a grin, "You're _so _not my type."

"What is your type, Lexie?" He no longer tripped over her name, but he couldn't help but search for Audrey in her blue eyes. _Strange_. Tonight she struck him as someone he knew, just as when he first saw her in the lush knoll after Jennifer opened the door, their eyes locked in recognition, and he had kissed her. And in those moments between life and what he believed would be his death, it had been like coming home, finally knowing where he belonged.

And his heart began to beat again and he could finally breathe. And he wanted her to make it stop, needed her to make it stop.

Then she became a stranger. An obnoxious, crude stranger who saved his life when the Guard had been hell bent on ending it, but a stranger nonetheless, one that wore Audrey's body, one step shy of a skinwalker.

With Sarah, it was so easy to recognize aspects of his Audrey. Her wit, her spunk. With Audrey, he could see glimpses of Sarah. Straightforward, world-wise, determined. Those traits transcended time, transcended identities. She was different but somehow the same. With Lexie, Nathan could see very little of Audrey. It was almost as if someone took his ideal woman and made a mirror image of her, where everything was distorted, twisted even.

"Losers, mostly. I guess I just wanted…"

"Wanted what?"

"To be around the type of man who will take off his jacket for a lady—even if she isn't much of a lady. But hey, I'm used to doing my own thing. Men want me for one thing, except you. You want me for something else—to be someone else. Though come to think of it, there was this one guy I dated who was really into role-playing."

But Nathan was silent.

"You've got the whole disapproval thing down, Grandpa Wuor-norse."

"Cut the act."

"Fine," she replied with a huff and a rolling of the eyes. "_Wuornos_. You satisfied?"

"No."

The intensity of his look made her suck in a breath. There was no mistaking his intentions as he slowly leaned closer to her; Audrey felt a surge of panic—or was it excitement? His fingertips trailed her cheeks so tenderly; she thought she might break in half. She found herself leaning into his touch, starved for it even.

_No, no, no, no, no. _

"What the hell are you doing?" she snapped as she took a step back. "Okay, so you're hot, and I can appreciate that. But you're also a hot mess. I'm pretty sure this," she motioned between the two of them, "is not healthy. Maybe if you poured some alcohol down my throat I'd be game, but I'm, yep, sober."

But Nathan closed the distance between them. One hand found its way under the jacket he had draped over her and then under the thin t-shirt she wore. He cupped her cheek even as he slid the other hand over her hip and waist in a soothing pattern. The one thing that hadn't changed was that he could feel her. Only her. "If you really want me to stop, say the word. Look me in the eyes and say no. That's it. Otherwise, I'm going to kiss you."

His lips were mere inches from hers, his voice hoarse with emotion.

_Cruelty is kindness_, she reminded herself. _Keep up the charade_. "Nathan…"

"Say it."

But she couldn't.

Without another word, Nathan pulled her body flush with his. And then his lips were on hers, full, demanding, angry. She electrified his senses. Her nose was cold, her mouth and body warm. She tasted like the Audrey he knew, cinnamon and coffee, sweet and bitter.

And she'd lied to him. Let him believe she was gone.

And his numbness was replaced by an ache as he broke the kiss.

"Why? Why'd you do it?"

Her head against his shoulder, she murmured, "Audrey has to be gone. You understand what I'm saying?"

"Wh-what? You thought you'd protect me? You should've pulled the trigger. The Troubles can't go on."

"We will find another way. I'm not going to just kill you Nathan."

"At least if you shot me, it'd be quick and painless. What you've been doing has been killing me day by day by day."

"I've lost you before. Remember? I've seen you die. I know how that feels, the not being able to catch my breath because it hurts so much. The crashing of the world around me. I don't care if it's selfish. I _won't_ do it! Being Lexie buys us time."

"I deserve to die for what I did."

"For loving me?"

Nathan swallowed hard. "For not letting you go. I couldn't see past wanting you, needing you. Still can't. It's cost this town!" Lowering his voice, he added solemnly, "It cost us James."

James.

Was there any way to move past that? Past the uncertainty? She hoped…God, she hoped he found a way, but…

She took a step back. "So what do we do now? And before you say it, no one's dying tonight."

Nathan considered her question. "We do what we always do. Fight the Troubles."

She wondered how much fight either of them had left.


End file.
